"This work is a deep dive into “home” the ever-shifting landscape where the heart learns to root, uproot, and root again. Home is the place you carry like a reliquary: tucked in small boxes, hung in frames, pressed against the tender chambers of memory. Each one is an altar of what has nourished you… and what has undone you.
When you have moved twelve times, you learn to shapeshift. Your roots grow shallow from necessity, lifted again and again before they ever reach the deep water. With every move, something is left behind; friends, lovers, versions of yourself you’ll never meet again. You start to ask: Should I stay? Am I planted, or merely placed? Am I thriving, or fading in the soil beneath me?
There is a look found in your eyes. The look of someone who holds both the beauty and the sorrow of many homes. Someone who wakes in the night and must remember where she is. Someone whose spirit is still reaching. Reaching for purpose, for place, for the soft gravity of belonging.
The ancestral wounds you carry whisper through every departure and every arrival. You trace them across new faces, new rooms, new horizons, hoping that in the next place; perhaps, you might understand the story beneath the story. And always, you pack the same invisible luggage: the inheritance you were born with, the inheritance your children will unknowingly tuck into their own small boxes.
So what is home? Is it the ground beneath your feet today? The place where you feel safe enough to grow, to make noise? Or is it the final destination, the one waiting at the end, adorned with all the stones and feathers and bones you’ve gathered along the way?
This piece stands inside the question:
Where am I going? Where have I been?
And perhaps, hidden between them:
Where do I finally belong?"
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